Aubade
by Lady Flick
Summary: Zuko/Blue/Katara/Painted. AU. In which Katara is a thief, Zuko is a knight, and nothing short of unmitigated catastrophe could ever bring them together. (spoiler: there is unmitigated catastrophe)
1. The Thief

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: **Firstly, I am awful. Because I disappeared for who-knows-how-long. I am notorious for that. But what brought me back (besides the wonderful-ness that is ZUTARA) was the fact that, after all this time, I found my notes and outlines and plots for this story and my interest in it renewed. Unfortunately I had already deleted this story once, assuming it dead - but here it is, again!

I have a new vigor for this storyline, and I hope you guys enjoy. It is an AU _alternate universe_ in which there is no bending and no Avatar. A drastic, AU, yes, but worth the read, I think. Hope you enjoy : )

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**EPILOGUE**

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I never envied the royalty. Never was jealous of the ladies of the castle. Never longed for a knight to court me. Poetry does nothing to sway my heart. Flowers and being rescued are not much of an appeal. I am a different sort of girl who would never fit in as a courtier. It's a good thing then, I suppose, that I'm not one, isn't it?

_This is a special way of being afraid  
No trick dispels. Religion used to try  
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade  
Created to pretend we never die_

I live on my own, on the streets of the kingdom, doing what I can to make ends meet. I know the villages better than the family that owns it. I like knowing. I like seeing and feeling and experiencing. I pity the Lords and the Ladies for their lack of knowledge in the arts of war and the plagues of death. I despise the Knights who keep it from them. They do not understand, cannot understand, that there is so much more to life than troubadours and jousts.

_And specious stuff that says No rational being  
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing  
That this is what we fear_

But I never cared much about what they lose. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say. If that is the case, then I believe it is safe to presume that the Courtiers and the Royal Families, are the happiest of all. Who am I to disrupt their world of perfection? I never danced their dance before. I never once bothered to know them, to meet them, to enter their world…Until Zuko Ignis, that is. The Knight who changed my life.

_No tou__ch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,  
__Nothing to love or link with  
__The anesthetic from which none come round._

_- _Philip Larkin, _Aubade_

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******AUBADE**

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:: _chapter one - the thief_ ::

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_._

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******H**ungry?"

I glanced over to my prison guard, a rather young lad who was mature beyond his years. He didn't seem that much older than I was, his youthful features apparent even by the dim flame he carried via torch. It amazed me that he could handle such a position, watching the captives, and that his heart did not long to set the inmates free. They were starving and tired and many were on the brink of insanity, desperation. One night I've been here in the dungeon, one night, and I came to two conclusions:

One, my cell had a loose bar.

Two, I could take him.

And so I hid my anxiety, waiting for the rest of the puzzle pieces to fall so I might act on my one fortune.

I raised my head in defiance, and he chuckled, that smile of his disconcerting.

"The Princess of Thieves wants some respect, does she?"

I hated that tone in his voice, the one that dripped with superiority. It was disgusting, vile, and I had to fight to keep from cringing at the way he sneered so contemptuously. As if I was scum. And perhaps I was. My given title was not far from the truth; on the contrary, I really was the Princess of Thieves – simply put. No, I didn't lead a merry band of bandits, but I was the most infamous pick-pocket throughout the kingdom.

I've eluded capture for years…

And here I was. Sitting in a dark and murky cell, the prison guard taunting me every chance he could get. Oh, he was most certainly milking this for all it was worth.

The torchlight flickered as he moved to hand the bowl through the bars, but I didn't budge from the opposite end of the cell. I knew this boy, this man. I recognized him as someone from my childhood, now that I got a better look. There was no mistaking his crooked smile, the straw tucked neatly between his lips. He didn't recognize me of course, had no idea who ___I_ was, and that's how I kept all of my former associations. It was dangerous to have any sort of connections to people, especially people you cared about.

"What's with the mask, Princess?" He inquired, a little annoyed at my silence. "Are you scarred and burned under there? A low chuckle followed and I clenched my fist in my lap at the sound of it. "Sir Zuko must have done quite a number on you, eh?"

That did it.

"That pathetic excuse of a knight did absolutely no harm to me," I spat, a snarl on my lips.

Knights were liars and murderers. I hated them. They didn't protect the kingdom, they kept it ignorant. The people of the castle did not know death or reality. They were little dolls, primped and waited on, they had absolutely no idea of the world and its truths, and knights made sure of that. They were chivalrous, but only for show, because I've witnessed many a knight taking advantage of his stature in the kingdom; one too many drinks and a wench on his lap who clearly didn't want to be there.

The prison guard shook his head, lowering the torch closer to the bars so that the light reached every corner of my small and cramped little hovel. "You have no idea what great accomplishments Zuko has done."

"Great accomplishments?" I echoed cynically, "_Great accomplishments!_ Name ___one_."

That maniacal little grin of his spread out over his lips once more, "Well, he's captured ___you_, hasn't he?"

My eyes narrowed through my mask, through the white and scarlet painted cover that marked me as a criminal. It was fragile and a keep-sake and only covered half my face. It was my disguise; I upheld the legend. I could not be caught. I was the Painted Lady.

I supposed then that, yes, this ___Sir Zuko_ had managed to do something great.

I'd heard of him, anyway. Sir Zuko, of the revered Ignis Line(!) I knew that he was skilled in fencing and horse-back riding. I knew that he was handsome and striking and chivalrous. I knew that he was considered the most eligible bachelor – until he became engaged to Lady Mai of the Gladyse House. He's slain dragons and he's taken down armies with just a bow and arrow and his sword and he's faced dangers beyond compare–

And I knew that I didn't believe a word of it.

Tall tales spun by the addle-headed women who knew absolutely ___nothing_.

Garbage.

___Lies._

"Tell that knight of yours this single triumph will be short-lived."

I fingered a small circular device, a small nut-shell packed with powder and other chemicals, tucked beneath my shirt. I stole it from a band of traveling gypsies about a year ago. When thrown it explodes, leaving a puff of red smoke and white dust.

It was my signature move, if you will. I had one more, just one, and I was saving it for a special occasion. My last ace-in-the-hole.

My grip tightened around it as I met those golden eyes I knew so well, and I stood in a graceful motion, stood to match his height as best I could. The bars remained between us, but I could very easily reach out to caress him if I wished.

Or punch him.

An all-too familiar quirky sort of smile befell his features. I returned the smirk, wishing that I didn't have to do this; wishing, for once in my life, not to ___know_, because having such attachments to people clouded my decisions.

He held the porridge out to me and, in a swift move, I plunged it into his face. He staggered backwards, the torch nearly singeing my hand. I yanked on the chain around my neck and threw the small sphere onto the ground, leaping back as a light explosion rattled the loose bar just enough so that I could pull it free. In the confusion of dust and smoke, I swept past him as he struggled to regain his bearings.

"I'm sorry, Jet," I said clearly through the din before disappearing out the door.

His swear words following me as I raced down the corridor, my legs moving quickly, carrying me over the cobble-stone floor of the under-ground passages. I had no idea where I was going, all I knew was that I had to keep moving. That was the way I learned to live. Running ahead. Go anywhere. Don't stay still. That's how they catch you. That's how Zuko caught me.

I was standing still.

And the mistake repeated itself over and over in my mind, that moment of shame and shocked terror.

He had stunned me, paralyzed me with just his eyes…

I was only ever exposed to such eyes once before, and it was so reminiscent of that fateful memory that I was caught off-guard.

The very trait that ran through his family, supposedly giving them powers beyond human capabilities. They intrigued me, and I made the mistake of not running. I stayed, stayed to learn more because I could never get enough of that knowledge, of ___knowing._ And that damn curiosity landed me in captivity. Panting down the corridors. Twisting and turning, nothing but dim torches to guide me. I was a rat trying to find my way out of a maze. A pathetic creature, but what choice did I have save to run and keep running until I found my way out or was killed?

I turned a corner and skidded to a halt.

"Take one more step and it will cost you your life."

There he stood, the knight that captured me with his mesmerizing eyes, no longer covered with his heavy armor. And he was quite handsome, I couldn't help but realize, with his striking features and those dark locks. But I couldn't look anywhere else besides those eyes of his – eyes that burned with fire.

I stepped back as he drew his sword. If escaping hadn't been my living, I might have been afraid; but my pride and dignity chased away any fears.

"What honor would my life bring you?" I challenged in a low whisper as the clamoring from my escaped chambers grew louder and louder. Jet was clearly chasing after me in a fit of rage and bewilderment. I didn't want him to find me. I revealed myself to him, he knew who I was, and that meant I had to leave this kingdom, leave this village. The Ladies of the Court might claim that their precious Zuko drove me away – let them. It mattered not what this kingdom thought.

His amber gaze bore into me so intensely I felt myself wavering on the spot. His eyes were so empty and cold that I had to wonder if perhaps he was even human. But he was, he must have been, because there was thought behind his stare. Human thought. Calculations.

He was deciding on an answer, I assumed. Trying to deduce just what my life was worth. But I didn't have that kind of time and bowed down low, mockingly, before him. "As delightful as this time spent with you was, I really must be on my way. I'll be sure to let the ladies know what a gentleman you are."

And I jetted off in the opposite direction, hearing his footsteps gaining on me, not daring to turn around.

I flew past an intersecting corridor, spotting the staircase that lead upwards, the one that I had descended from when I was brought to my cell, and could practically taste the freedom, the fresh air, the hope as I propelled forward. A jarring clash caught my attention and I glanced backwards to see Jet knocking into the knight (on purpose? Surely not…), sending them both against the wall, and kept running, climbing up the steps as if my life depending on it.

In this case, it did.

Zuko cursed out, loudly and forcefully, and I smirked with amusement as I reached the door to the outside world, reached it and felt the cool air against the lower half of my face and I turned to swing the door shut; to lock them underneath the ground not to be found until morning. Except Jet sputtered out a sincere and desperate,

"_Katara_!"

And in the split second my instincts tensed, Zuko Ignis pummeled me into the ground (for the second time).

I hit the grass hard, the pain jarring up my spine, and I growled out at the feel of his weight. Crushing my lungs, pressing down on me so that I couldn't move. My eyes were wide open through the mask. He glared down at me, pinning my arms beneath his hands. It wasn't at all romantic, and what a shame, because such a position could be considered scandalous, especially under the moonlight and the stars. Except I could barely breathe, and he was revolting.

"Don't flatter yourself." His lips brushed through my hair, "___Your_ life would bring me absolutely no worth."

With that said he stood up at once, peeling away from me as if I was diseased. Air rushed quickly to my lungs and I gasped out rolling over on the ground, coughing into the grass. Something was wrong, a single night in the cell and it was as though my lungs had weakened.

Jet rushed to my side, tentatively touching a hand to my shoulder and I hissed at him, recoiling from the contact. He was frowning, those dark eyes worried and unsure. "Katara," he began, but I turned away, not wanting to see him, not allowing those old emotions to bubble up. Those broken ties to mend. It was all so long ago, and we were separated by the castle.

He chose to live by it.

And I chose to run.

"Escort her back down to her cell," the knight ordered callously, adjusting his attire to erase any signs of a struggle.

My eyes jumped over to him as I struggled up onto my knees. He stared at me with that penetrating gaze, unfeeling and distant. The very description of a knight in my mind.

"Give her a feast if you wish. Let her wash up. Give her warm clothes to wear."

Jet, his squire I presumed, looked questioningly at the man he served under, the dark strands of his hair tickling against my cheek with the movement. His hand was set firmly between my shoulder-blades and I could feel each and every distinct finger-tip pressing against the wool fabric of my cloak. The touches burned with that longing familiarity. I had to leave the kingdom now that Jet knew, I had to leave to spare his life and my life and to avoid complications.

I couldn't afford any at all with how I lived-

"She hangs tomorrow morning."

The man turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me there with a stunned prison-guard, one whose eyes spoke of affection and apologies because he was a squire and he intended to follow through with his Knight's orders.

Jet removed my mask and I blinked at him, my face blank of the friendship he hoped to relive.

Nonetheless, a wry grin turned up the corner of his mouth, "You ___let _him catch you."

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**Thoughts?  
**

Yes, Sokka will be in it.  
As are Aang, Suki and Toph.

Hope you enjoyed : )

_Please let me know what you think!_


	2. Treason

******AUBADE**

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:: _chapter two – treason _::

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******J**et led me to a much larger cell, this one reserved for the ones to die the next morning. It wasn't a hunch so much as my childhood friend telling me, quite frankly, that this was where they pampered those sentenced to death. The chamber was spacious enough, with satin curtains drawn over a makeshift window, and a bed situated in the middle of the grandeur. A bed with down-feather pillows and - it couldn't be - silk sheets. Silk sheets that must have been imported from some far-away kingdom because such fine fabrics were not in market here. The bed alone must have cost quite a sum, and I would have been impressed with the luxuries this new room had to offer if it wasn't for the fact that this was still a prison cell.

I scowled as Jet ushered me inside before sauntering over to the bed and sitting down on it. He not-so-subtly tilted his head to the side, patting the area of the bed beside him. I had to tell myself it didn't remind me of our years growing up together. His antics were childish. Pointless. _Endearing- _my traitorous mind began, but I defused that thought immediately.

"Oh come on, Sweet," my counterpart pouted, "You're not still mad that I said you let him catch you, are you?" Jet pointed a finger to his cheek, "You already made me pay for ___that_ comment!" The skin there was redder than the rest of his face. It would fade into a disgusting purple-ish bruise by morning.

Good.

I raised my head in defiance, not letting him get the best of me. He might think we were still friends just because of our history, but he was my keeper and I was the captive, and to let my guard down would result in my death. Like hell I planned on letting them hang me by day-break. That Ignis-Knight had another thing coming if he really expected me to sit here and just wait for death to rope me around the neck.

I refused to be another ornament for the gallows.

"Get off my bed, Jet."

He shook his head, exasperated, and stood up, put-out with my attitude. I wasn't his friend anymore. Nor was he mine. And something about that thought made my heart constrict because being reunited with Jet did help ease the ego-shattering blow of finally being captured.

I stalked over to the bed, not speaking another word to him, not wanting to because if I did, it would be something smart and witty and ___charming_ and then we'd strike up conversation and maybe rebuild that broken friendship we left long ago. And that was the last thing I needed right now. Not when I planned to escape and abandon this kingdom now that he called me out by name. Now that my identity, my appearance, as the Painted Lady had been revealed.

Jet stared at me, I could feel those rich brown eyes studying my face, but I resolutely kept my gaze on the oval-shaped bed before me, behind him, not letting myself fall prey to the solace of human interaction. That would only make it more difficult to leave.

Staying wasn't an option.

Death wasn't an option.

"I'm sorry, Katara." His voice was hoarse as he said it.

I blinked, glancing his way, and was surprised to see that he didn't sport that grin; the amusement in his eyes was gone. Only sincerity and remorse met me, and I was struck numb with the way he said those two words. Quietly, hushed, as if ashamed to admit it, perhaps even afraid. But what was so frightening about confessing that he was sorry? Shouldn't he be sorry for aiding in the murder of one of his childhood friends? I was unsure of what to say, how to reply, because such honesty had been lost on me for some time now.

Anyone I interacted with as myself I lied to. And anyone I encountered as the Painted Lady I ran from. There was simply no room for honesty in my life anymore.

What a grim conclusion.

He closed the space between us as he stepped forward, hesitant, eyes claiming mine so that I found it strangely impossible to look away. There was a warmth and comfort in his gaze and I couldn't breathe anymore, which was odd because nothing was compressing my chest this time around.

Jet's hand reached out to touch my cheek and his fingers were calloused and burned and ___warm_.

"What are you-?" My breath, damn it to the pits of hell, wavered. I blinked, trying to regain my thoughts, but it was hard, especially when this was the first actual human contact I've had for so long now. But no! No, I couldn't just let him do whatever it was that he planned to do! He was going to let me get killed the next morning if the apologetic look he gave me was any indication.

He was sorry.

But he would let me die anyway.

I tore my face away from his hand, feigning disgust and perhaps even rage, but I knew it didn't reach my eyes, not when the contact was so reminiscent of better times. "Don't ___touch_ me." Even I was surprised with the spite in my tone.

If Jet was deterred he didn't show it. That quirky grin tugged up the edge of his mouth and he let his hand drop to his side. The hurt was evident in his eyes, but only for a moment so brief that I thought I was only flattering myself, assuming that he might have been offended by my act. Of course, if I remembered anything of my old friend, he masked any such emotions with humor.

As if on cue, the squire let out a sharp exhale that could have been a laugh, "It's because I'm not Zuko, isn't it?"

My fists came flying out once more at that name, at the insinuation, and I couldn't help but growl with the effort of taking that swing, waiting for the satisfaction of firmly planting my knuckles into his face - but my punch didn't land. The iron chains clanked with the motion. He caught my wrist with surprisingly quick reflexes and I bristled at his grin that was taunting and haughty. His grip on my fist was vice-like, and if he pressed down any tighter I wouldn't be surprised if I'd hear a few bones crack. He yanked me closer to him, a look of authority on his face that was previously lacquered in good humor.

It certainly was different now and I shrunk back at the morph despite my own pride. He was intimidating, with his eyes glowing, the flash of malice clear-as-day. His boyish smile transformed into something much more sinister, and suddenly I had no idea who this young man was. He resembled nothing of the boy I regrettably missed. This Jet...he had an aura of murderous intent...

The way the torch-flames adorning the walls of the chamber flickered shadows across his face did nothing to ease my too-quickly rising fear. It was almost as if he had lost all traces of humanity.

"Want me to let you in on a little secret, Princess?"

His voice was threatening, sardonic, and I met his eyes that were amused, finding some form of pleasure from what I presumed was a horrified expression in my scowl. But I didn't quiver or stutter or shrink away. I squared my shoulders, albeit with some difficulty and grasped onto what little dignity I could salvage. "You're much more like Zuko than you think?" The insult could not be over-looked - he was cold and detached and hid behind bravado.

Jet only chuckled in response, his grip tightening just a bit, enough to coerce a hiss from me.

"I could have stopped you earlier."

"Then why didn't you?" I challenged.

He grinned, baring each and every one of his teeth. "Well, stopping you wouldn't win me any favors. And I've always wondered what it would be like to lie with you."

Before I could even react (in disgust, horror, and a new determination to _escape) _he laughed.

___Laughed._

He let my hand go and doubled over on the bed, holding his sides and shaking with that ___laughter_ and what the hell was so funny?! I jumped away from him at once as the mattress wavered under his gasping breaths, too curious to do the sensible thing: run. He seemed very much amused by something, and not at all worried that I might run away. But as he already said, he could have stopped me. Besides, after my first attempt, I wouldn't put it past _Zuko_ to station security outside.

I massaged my hand, a preturbed glower behind my tangled locks, and stared warily at my prison-guard and former friend-now-gone-mad. What was wrong with him? He couldn't seem to contain himself, and I briefly entertained the idea of him having some sort of melt-down, my wits slowly returning, expelling the fear and uncertainty.

That didn't mean that I wasn't still afraid, I just had the common sense to get away. Fight or flight, as they say, and fight wasn't looking like too bright an option...

I could knock him out.

Or strangle him.

I could pry out each and every one of his teeth-

He turned me into a sadist.

Jet sat up then, interrupting my rather macabre ideas, and shook his head, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. That lopsided smile graced his lips once more, and for a moment I saw a glimpse of the young boy I knew. Must have been a trick of light.

"You should have seen your ___face!_"

Realization dawned on me, as leisurely as a sunrise, and the horrified expression in my eyes - the fear, the uncertainy, the curiosity - peeled away to reveal uninhibited fury. He was laughing not because of his own twisted sadism, but because of how it had so successfully frightened ___me_.

Though admittedly, had ___I_ been the one to play the ruse, it would be quite amusing - but only because the circumstances would be different! Royalty deserved to be tricked, deserved cruel and inhumane treatment. Not ___me_. And no, I wasn't being at all hypocritical. People like me, we awaited our just reward, and people like ___them_ - they awaited their condemnation.

Apparently my rage was evident, because he only chuckled once more, shaking his head in what was clearly amusement. Childlike almost, as if the prank he pulled involved a measly rubber spider rather than hinting at a gruesome and torturous demise. "You're too easily _scared_," he mocked, giving a smug look that I wanted to tear off his face, "Or do I just intimidate you?"

"It's not everyday _I'm threatened with.____..sex__. Or whatever you qualify as such,"_ I cracked, thoroughly annoyed beyond appeasement. He could ___not_ joke and kid and charm his way out of this one. "You've got some nerve, you sick and twisted pathetic waste of skin-"

"Now, now, Katara-" he cut in, standing from the bed and holding a hand over his heart. "You wound me. Are such names really necessary?"

I debated between telling him that ___yes_ they were ___very_ necessary, and just socking him right in that smirking face of his. Was too sensible to even try the latter, though it proved to be more fun. I have heard too many tales of acting on impulse to ever fall prey to such recklessness. I settled for an extraordinarily severe scowl.

Jet approached me with a casual air, acting as though we were still the best of friends and that he did not just threaten to ___ravage_ me. "You should be flattered, really," he assured me, "not all prisoners look as scrumptious as you."

"I'm ___honored._"

"It was a ___joke_."

I glared.

"Would it make you feel better if I let you escape?"

Right, I was supposed to believe he'd just let me get away. I eyed him warily - as if to say ___Do you think me a fool?_ - and rolled my eyes, staunchily doing my best to ignore him. Letting him bait me would only serve to prolong his entertainment, and he'd never fall asleep. I had to be boring. Had to be ___boring prey_. The moment he nodded off I was out of here and he'd be lucky if his bones were intact by the time he came-to.

But ignoring him was a much more challenging feat than I anticipated, because suddenly that chilling breath of his was at my ear, and those hands that had the potential to break the bones in mine grasped lightly at my shoulders from behind. His lips, I could feel them brush through the part of my hair that covered my ear, and it was so unnerving, so unsettling, that I shivered. "We could run, Katara," he murmured with an intimacy that set me on-edge, "we could run. Both of us. Would you run away with me if I asked you to?"

Would I run away with him?

Would I run away with a (seemingly) bi-polar, multiple-personality squire who apparently had some sort of affinity for sadism?

Perhaps once upon a time.

I spun away from his grasp, his fingers that were so cold they burned. "I'd rather take my chances with death, thanks," I answered scathingly, firmly telling myself that the sincerely affronted look on his face did nothing to sway my reply.

Jet eyed me oddly, as if ___I_ was the loon. His gaze was pensive, almost wise – but I was much too aware of his quick shifts in personality to let my guard down. I kept my distance, enough of a gap between us to dodge any advance he made, prepared for the defensive. My hand fisted at my side on instinct as he took a step forwards. Evidently my reaction was noticed because he abruptly stopped. What was he playing at? Was he playing some other mind-game with me?

He stared the way a lover might.

___Or a starving predator longingly watching his prey,_ I reminded myself.

"Katara-"

But whatever he might have said, whether it was to tell me to stop being foolish or to stop trying to run because it was futile, I didn't get to hear because at that precise moment a large explosion shook the cell walls, sprinklings of the ceiling dust rained down on us. We looked up at the roof over our heads. Clods of dirt fell in large chunks as a second explosion boomed, this time louder.

Without thinking, Jet lunged towards me and I screamed, attempting to get away, but he yanked me out of that chamber, through the doors, feet carrying him impossibly fast and I realized how useless it ___would_ have been for me to run. Jet was ___fast_. Inhumanly so. Another explosion broke out and I heard rubble falling, boulders, metal bars. I only glanced briefly behind me, wishing I hadn't, because the sight of dust and an on-rush of orange ___heat_ made another scream erupt from my lips, a scream that went unheard with the chaos that continued to follow.

The flames stretched forth menacingly, its cloak of smoke and dust and blackness merging ceiling and floor. It looked just like the entrance to hell.

Jet charged up the steps two-at-time, and I realized with unmasked horror that the other cells were not empty, that the metal bars preventing the other prisoners from escaping had not been shaken loose with the quakes, with the caving-in, and I let out a cry as Jet and I flew through the door. I stumbled over the grass and he steadied me, wasting no time to stop and make sure I was alright. He half-hauled, half-dragged me further from that wooden barricade, the entrance to the dungeons.

"The others!" I exclaimed in protest, fighting to go back, to help those people who would be trapped in the cave-in and face death-by-furnace. "They're still—the people down there-" Apparently the brink of life and death made me inarticulate. "-Jet___!_" I tried again helplessly, feeling, for the first time in six years, myself choke on on-coming tears. I'd like to spare my ego and claim that the stinging in my eyes was caused by the smoke that filled the air – but that would be a lie.

A final explosion lit up the night-sky, and I gasped out in a strangled cry just as another explosion stirred the night. We were thrown backwards with the impact, and hit the ground in a heap of soot and ashes and maybe a little blood, but I didn't want to think about that. I felt a sadness that I hadn't felt in a long time. Sadness for those people under there who were hoping to see daylight once more, the people who probably didn't even deserve to be imprisoned.

I'd admit it then, admit that I belonged in the dungeon for my thievery, but those people – what had they done? A baker was in there, a baker I knew and adored, a baker that wouldn't hurt a fly. Jailed for taxes.

I pressed my wrists against my eyes, smudging tears and ash, and turned on Jet when he tried to console me. "You let them die!" I accused, revolted with his actions, with how he refused to help them. "You're horrible! You're—you're-"

He caught my fists. I couldn't see his face clearly, couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but the way he held my wrists, forcefully and yet with a comforting gentleness, spoke volumes of his regret. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, in a hushed whisper barely heard over the people, the ___people_ I could hear screaming. "I'm sorry, I would have helped them if I could, but we didn't have time, Katara."

"We should have died helping them," I countered, trembling now, shocked and traumatized with the experience of having the option to help and not doing anything. ___Not doing anything. _"We should have died helping them!" I reiterated fiercely, hoping my anger would ease my own guilt.

An armor-clad knight approached us then, emerging through the smoke – a harbinger of turmoil. Blood splattered his shield, but I could distinguish no other details about him. He spoke to Jet, taking no mind to me whatsoever. His voice was deep and muffled behind his helmet, almost mechanical and unfeeling. Like a doll. "You are squire to Sir Ignis."

Jet nodded, his hands still holding down my cuffed wrists. "Yes," he answered in a lazy slur that could have been mistaken as insolence. But he was just tired from the run, from having to practically carry me away from what would have been my death.

The knight turned away from us, his motions stiff. "Follow me."

Jet pulled me to my feet, holding an arm around my shoulders to keep me from collapsing. I sniffled and immediately pulled myself together to spare my dignity. My counterpart gave me a weak smile, and I looked away from him even as he offered his shoulder to lean against. I refused.

The knight led us past the castle and I gaped at the sight of it. The west wing was in complete disarray, the entire right side of the fortress blown to rubble. The side directly above the dungeons. That, at least, explained the explosions. So no one intentionally killed those innocent people underground. I couldn't seem to find any consolation in that fact and looked away from what I knew to be the Ignis residency.

Jet paused as we passed it, his arm tensing around me in shock.

"Let's go," the knight demanded of us, and we continued on our way.

Eventually we found ourselves at what appeared to be a Court Hearing. It was held in the open training grounds, sometimes used for jousting tournaments. The courtiers were seated in the bleachers, the royals in a fancier up-raised seating. Most of them looked just as confused and afraid of the chaos as I was, some were crying, some injured and all covered in ashes. They looked afraid.

___Well good_, I thought savagely.

Truth had finally breached their artificial perceptions of reality.

A single man covered in red dampness stood before a council. He was greatly injured, bleeding right then as he was facing his inquisition. I didn't understand what was going on; I couldn't hear the words either party spoke, not with the murmurs of the crowds. The knight walked right up to the edge of the council, leaning forward to whisper something to the eldest member – a man with graying hair and eyes as dark as the smoke. He nodded to Jet, bidding him forward.

Jet left my side and I suddenly felt so alone, but I watched him approach the young man being questioned. I knew who it was before he glanced up.

The area fell silent as the eldest advisor called for everyone's attention, his dark eyes unforgiving and disappointed and ___cold_.

"Zuko Ignis, you have been found guilty and are sentenced to death for treason."

"I'm ___innocent_," the knight protested relentlessly, trying to make a move forward but hissing in pain as he fell onto his knee on the ground, Jet instantly at his aid. "I—I didn't ___do_ it!" Zuko exclaimed, true anger in his voice. Passion, feeling, emotion. It was so different from the cold and distant man who had so easily held my own death sentence. Though it was a fair bit of justice, I couldn't find any pleasure or gratification in his condemnation, not when his voice was so strained with what sounded like true understanding of death and loss and human anguish. "I didn't do it," he said again, hoarsely, swaying from his position on the grass.

Didn't do what? Explode the entire west side of the castle? I understood that he might be cold-hearted and undeserving, but even I knew that such an act was beyond him. Surely he wouldn't blow up his own familial district—

But his pleas were ignored.

"You hang at first light."

And then he passed out on the grass, his blood staining Jet's ash-covered tunic.

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**So there it is!**

I hope you all enjoyed.  
I really and truly appreciated all the reviews.  
They certainly keep me motivated to continue!

There is an escape and pending Ninja!Zutara in store  
So until the next chapter, lovelies : )

_I'd love to know what you think._


	3. Escape

**AUTHOR'S NOTE;** I sincerely and truly appreciate the feedback I've been getting : ) It certainly keeps my hopes up that I may be doing something right with this story! Some action will be coming up in the next chapter, and some well-known faces will be appearing soon. Hope you all enjoy!

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**AUBADE**

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:: _chapter three - escape_ ::

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**I**t was much colder out here than underground, and I drew my cloak around my knees to keep warm. The attempt was futile, but that didn't stop me from trying. I could feel myself shivering beneath the thick wool cape, though not in reaction to the cool autumn weather. I thought, for a brief moment, that I had been forgotten by the Royal Court inlight of treason. For an instant I thought the Painted Lady was relieved of her sentence. But there I sat in the tent, with dozing guards at either entrance, still awaiting that death. I scowled ruefully at the ground between my sandal-clad feet. I had my chance to escape during the mayhem. But I didn't. Why? Why, for the first time in my life, _didn't_ I run? It would have been so _easy_. So simple. The fates smiled down on me when that first explosive detonated.

And yet there I was, curled up in the tent, my only company an unconscious knight. I was curious about him, and about this entire affair. About the explosions and who set them off. I wanted to know what happened, or what didn't happen. A dry grin stretched across my lips. I always knew that my insatiable thirst for knowledge would eventually be my own downfall.

My gaze flicked over to the fallen knight, the injured hero, laying in an ignoble heap on the ground. On the _dirt_. Wounded and pathetic. I wondered about his life, about what he had seen or not seen, but most of all, I wondered about his story. The side that wasn't told. He was never given a chance to redeem himself, and I wanted to know what happened. What _really_ happened and not what the council claimed, _assumed_. But he'd been sleeping since he fainted on the lawn, his gashes tended to so that his suffering come morning would be prolonged.

(What a horrific and barbaric ideal...to heal the human body only so that it might tolerate more pain.)

My mask covered my eyes once more. It only seemed fit to expose the thief with some dramatic flair – debunking the myth of the Painted Lady and humiliating me. I never would have thought that I would die by the gallows. I always expected a more...righteous end. Captured because I was out on a customary raid rather than doing something _good_. I was going to die because of my own personal affair...

It wasn't what I planned - but I suppose things never went according to plan.

I should have known as much just looking at the tangent path I followed.

And for this knight, as well. Surely he hadn't foreseen such a dishonorable crime to befall him. Sentenced to death not only for murder, but _treason_. Assassination of the king. It was a story meant for the history books, one that the troubadours would turn into song. He would become a legend, but certainly not in a manner that he hoped - if he even hoped to become such a legend. I watched him as he slept, that disturbed and relentless scowl on his ashen face.

What horrors has he witnessed? What tragedies has he seen?

He stirred then, and I lifted my head in light alarm. The knight's frown deepened as he shifted positions, a low hiss escaping his lips. I said absolutely nothing as he struggled to sit up only to come crashing back down onto the earth with a _thud_. His eyes widened at the sight of his bound wrists, his bound ankles, and then finally settled onto me. His only companion.

I offered my most sarcastic of smiles, "Morning, sunshine."

The knight, once great and adored, had fallen from a high pedestal – that much was apparent with the way he looked, bound and useless and weak and maybe even a little afraid, I wasn't sure. He looked alarmed, for lack of a better word, as he found his balance and sat up, swaying on the spot from loss of blood, or perhaps sheer numbness. Whatever words left his lips came out as nothing more than a garbled mess; an incoherent waste of breath.

I could see, by the sliver of moonlight the tent flap dared let into our confinement, the expression of confusion and utter frustration marring his antagonistic features. Beautiful in their own right, surely, but glacial and empty. Furious.

He cleared his throat, voice husky and strained but otherwise working, and struggled to maintain his balance as he shifted. "How long?" He managed to mutter, the words shaping around his lips. I was surprised with how calm he sounded, how collected, as if he had woken up from a customary slumber and not bound like a prisoner about to hang come dawn.

How long until sunrise? How long had he been here? How long had I been watching him?

I blinked from behind my mask, wondering if he even realized who I was. Surely he had. "How long what?" I elaborated, voice low and quiet, yet matching his hauteur. If he would be civilized then I would be as well. The only reason we had such barbaric run-ins was because he was so adamant in capturing me. Trapping me like some wild animal. He was still an arrogant prick, but now we were in the same boat. We both faced death at the gallows with the first light and he had no room to gloat and lord it over me. He would come to the same end I would. Despite our separate lives and the extremities of our variant beliefs, death would consume us in the same manner – afterall, death hath no preference.

The man grimaced as he toppled over with some form of grace, a grunt escaping his gritted teeth with the impact of his shoulder against the dirt. The fall didn't jar him from answering; instead suppressing whatever pain must have shot up his limbs and rioted through his nervous system. "How long have I been out?" He clarified between a few jagged breaths, as he fidgeted on the ground, shifting his arms and bending his legs so as to loop his bound wrists up from under his feet, bringing his arms to the front of his blood-stained tunic.

"Only a few hours," I answered softly, so softly that I wondered if he even heard.

He was lying still on the ground and the darkness hid his face. How annoying it was, I realized, being unable to see. Was that how people felt talking to my mask? I could not tell if he was even awake, if he was glaring or smiling (though why anyone would smile in such a situation escaped me) or if he was simply dead. But no, he couldn't be dead because his torso moved, indicating breaths in and out, as staggered as they might be. From my angle and through the cover of night, I could distinguish his cheek against the flattened dirt beneath the side of his face; he remained still, his breaths low and almost mute, if only silence existed.

Sir Zuko righted himself, shaking a few clods of dirt from his hair, and reached to his feet, fingers fumbling blindly with the knots that bound his ankles. "It was an hour before the peak of night when I came to check on you," he said curtly. So he did recognize me – and how could he not? "About two hours marked the explosion…if my estimations are correct it is just around…"

It wasn't difficult, in fact, it was rather simple math – but it was not my place to gloat. He was injured, probably disoriented and very frustrated. Not to mention suffering from blood-loss. Most of it was on the coat of arms bared on his front. No longer valiant and impressive, akin to his reputation, to the entire Ignis lineage. Tarnished, for seemingly the rest of time. Afterall, he was not only marked as a traitor to the crown but his own _blood_ - there was no more source of shame than that, be it true or not.

"Four hours past midnight," I supplied swiftly, doing the mental count so as to save him the strain. I might hate him, despise him, but at the moment we were enemies with a joint cause. Surely he wasn't inclined on dying within an hour's time. I studied his face, but he only stared at the rope wound tightly about his ankles. A sigh left my lips and I stood up with practiced grace. "Well, as I said earlier: This has been delightful but I must go. I'll be sure to-"

"-tell the ladies I'm a perfect gentleman," he finished harshly, watching me with alarmingly vigilant eyes. He was undoubtedly shocked to see me free, if the look on his face was any indication. Well, I hadn't eluded capture all those years because my captors were morons. I was simply an escape artist. And the dagger I stole from Jet earlier that night helped a little. Something like a snarl curled over his mouth, expectant, but more-so irritated. "Untie me."

I arched a careful brow at his hunched form, at the threatening look in his suddenly fierce gaze. His eyes seemed so much more intense, or maybe the moon was in a cloud? "I sincerely think that you are in no condition to be giving me demands, _Prince Zuko_." Mocking a curtsy in this confinement was a feat, but I managed, if only to get a satisfied feeling from the scowl he gave in turn. "The only reason I am still here was so that I could engage you in conversation," I said before he could ask his own question, "I'm something of a fan of tall tales, so indulge me, will you?" I knelt before him, studying his face, the features hidden beneath dirt and blood and sweat. "So that I might be on my way."

Unfortunately for me, the knight was hardly so accommodating.

"Betraying my own kin is against my oath."

I gave him a sardonic grin. "Ah, and so is killing your family."

"I didn't kill anyone," he snapped irately, voice rising just the slightest so that I had to hold a finger over his lips and wait for a moment to listen. The sound of light snoring filtered through our cloth prison, and I turned back to the captive who appeared on the brink of snapping his teeth onto my outstretched hand.

I responded with an utmost charming smile, "So who did?"

"Why wet your fancies when I don't benefit?"

"Shouldn't you, as an honorable knight, accept your penalty?"

"And shouldn't you, as an advocate of helping the innocent, not practice such prejudices?"

Prejudices! How dare he use that word against me! I held no prejudices against those who were innocent but he, he was a _knight_! Far from innocent! Far from the people who deserved such mercy and aid. I gave him a scathing look and straightened up. I was losing interest with this man. Fast. "Knights are vile and hypocritical. You slay and arrogantly bask in the light of death and yet when death approaches you whilst you are unarmed you turn into cowards."

Zuko's mordant expression spoke even before his words reached my ears. "I will face death when I have found peace with whoever started all of this."

"Yourself?" I mocked cryptically.

He only scoffed, shaking his head sharply to the side to negate it. "My mother."

His mother-?

"Your mother is dead," I deadpanned.

The look on his face morphed from scorn to curiosity (or, at least, however much curiosity that face of his could convey).

Zuko let out a sharp and bitter laugh much too loud for comfort. "My grandfather and father, certainly, but my mother? Far from it." And I knew that I betrayed my interest in his mother by my earlier reaction, and the dawning of a trump card sparked in those amber eyes of his. "But that is none of your concern. Leave if you will."

Oh, well now that I knew his mother was involved I couldn't very well leave, could I? Judging by the smug look on his face, he knew I wouldn't, either. Bloody manipulative-

I scowled, exaggerating my lips into the self-same frown that usually adorned his face and grasped blindly onto what little upper-hand I had left in the matter. Unfortunately for me, Zuko Ignis was far from stupid, and he knew a catch when it struggled in his net.

"You can't untie yourself, not in your condition. And even if you do, you can't get very far," I mused.

"And so?" The knight prompted.

I knelt before him once again, withdrawing the dagger hidden beneath my cloak. "I will release you," I said quietly, whispers hushed. A few chirps told me that sunrise was fast-approaching, and if we had any hope of escaping it would soon disappear. "But you must take me wherever you are going – you will tell me everything of what happened last night."

He leaned forward so as to gain better balance, "And if I don't?"

I lowered the blade to the bindings at his ankles. "Then I won't help you find her."

"I work alone."

I decided that a pointed look would suffice.

"Dead weight is of no help."

Silence was working quite well to ruffle his feathers and I stuck to my guns.

"You thought she was dead, how can you possibly help me find her?"

The dagger broke through the rope at his feet and I gave him a crooked grin. Knowing and self-satisfied. "I have a history with that mother of yours," I said lightly, vaguely, standing from my perch and tucking the dagger away. "Sunrise is soon, we need to go. _Now_," I urged.

Zuko only frowned and gestured at his wrists.

I shrugged, creeping towards the tent flaps to listen for the snoring. It was still strong, the guards were dead asleep, but for how much longer before the French-horn of the morning call? I glanced back at the knight who was straightening up, about to protest that I must have 'forgotten' to free his wrists – and really, did he think I was an idiot? "You don't need your hands to run."

The tent flap flew open-

"Preparing for a stroll, are you?"

Zuko's relief bloomed across his face. "Uncle?"

A soft hush followed and I glanced at the man standing at the opening, silhouette framed by torchlight. The expression on his face was almost child-like as he peeped at the guards on either side of him, fast asleep. He grinned. "I had the kitchen staff slip some..._relaxation herbs_ into their tea. Now hurry, you must go," the elder man insisted, shooing us out.

Zuko wasted no time and brushed by him, but I paused. I knew this man—from a foggy memory. The way he eyed me assured me that he remembered me as well. "Thank you," I murmured as I walked by.

"Do good," he responded before moving to the castle with alarming speed.

_Do good_.

"Well?" Came the knight's impatient hiss.

He gestured his bound wrists towards the forests, and we were off.

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**Some questions for you:**

(1) How does Katara know Ursa and Iroh?  
(2) Who will Zuko and Katara run into first?  
(3) Should I turn this into a rated _M_ fic?  
(debating this for awhile now, vote please!)


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